


The Human Touch

by AndyArchives



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Injured Spock, M/M, Spones if you squint, T'hy'la, Worried Jim, telepathic pain, worried Bones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26887504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyArchives/pseuds/AndyArchives
Summary: The Enterprise goes to Betazed to deliver a life saving vaccine, only to discover they are telepathically reaching out as well—only problem? It’s hurting Spock.
Relationships: Kirk/Spock
Comments: 12
Kudos: 179





	The Human Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This was just my excuse to write Jim and McCoy taking care of Sick!Spock. Whoops

The mission was supposed to be so simple: beam in, deliver the medicine to cure the plague that was taking over Betazed and leave. Simple charity mission. 

If Jim was being honest, it was such a small mission he didn’t even plan to go down for it. That being said, he was off-shift as soon as they landed, at which point Sulu was scheduled to take command for the rest of the day.

As soon as they came into view of the planet, Jim heard a cry of pain from the far corner of the bridge—Spock’s corner

He looked up and immediately saw his first officer tipping towards his chair and then collapsing into it. The heels of his hands were pressed to his skull.

“Spock!” Jim called out and hurried to him. He put a stabilizing hand on his back. “What’s wrong?

“Captain,” he said, panting through his explanation. “I believe I’m experiencing... the pain of the telepathic civilization nearby. It’s almost as if their telepathic powers render mine—,” he cut himself off with a raw scream of agony, his head bent forward. 

“Alright come on, I’m officially ordering you to sick bay.” 

“Captain,” said Spock, in that tone he put on when entering an argument. He looked flushed from some sort of fever. “This is telepathic pain. I ought to be able to gain control of it more time.”

Kirk took a good look at his first officer, and he did not like what he saw. His expression, often so smooth and placid, was warped at the corners of his mouth and eyes.

“Nonsense,” The Captain dismissed. “Mr. Sulu, take the comm early. I’ll log this incident myself.”

Sulu obeyed with a nod, moving towards the captain’s chair and avoiding eye contact with the two of them. Everyone else on the bridge, upon noticing how intensely Spock was suffering, found themselves unable to watch him. It was a well-kept secret that Spock hated being acknowledged when he was upset or hurt, and preferred to be assisted by Kirk or the ship’s doctor.

Kirk lifted Spock’s arm over his own shoulder and held him around the waist with one hand and around the arm with the other.

He half-carried his First Officer straight to sickbay. When he got a look at Spock, Bones started to warm up for what was likely going to be a great storm of cursing that would last all day.

“He’s experiencing some type of telepathic pain,” Jim explained, after swinging his arms under Spock’s knees and placing him on the bio bed himself.

“I’ll be sure to check for that,” said the doctor. 

McCoy began to to scan the Vulcan’s vitals. He read them, then said, “Well there’s nothing physically wrong with him except for a touch of a fever,” said McCoy. “How do you explain that alongside the telepathic pain?” 

“Stress,” the Vulcan said, the word coming out in a low, pained hiss. “Untempered stress in a Vulcan can lead to—,”

“—fatigue and pretty serious dehydration, essentially. Could be lethal gone unchecked,” Bones said.

The Vulcan nodded, and the tiniest groan escaped his lips from the movement.

“Nausea?” Asked the Doctor. Spock made a small, shaky noise to indicate affirmation. McCoy turned and called from behind a curtain where another patient was being tended to. “Christine! Could we get wet towels and a bucket, please?”

“Yes, Doctor,” the nurse replied. She appeared from behind the privacy curtain for the other patient. She had little time to register who it was on the bio bed, but concern was visible underneath her professional mask.

While she was gone, Kirk moved to press the button near the bed that made a large metallic hoop extend above the bed that then produced simple blue curtains for privacy. 

Bones had asked Scotty to create the privacy curtains after about three years into their mission. Jim had mentioned to Bones after Spock had stayed in sick bay that he could feel Spock’s shame through their T’hy’la bond every time new people walked into the room. His feelings of self-consciousness were harder to deal with in his injured state. 

Bones was reminded that there really was something to be said about Vulcan dignity. As soon as the curtains formed and encompassed them, Spock’s face relaxed a considerable degree. 

“Doctor?” The call came from behind the curtain.

At the sound of his head nurse’s call, McCoy poked his torso out from the circle of blue curtains to retrieve the supplies, along with a couple of hypos that Chapel had slipped in, just in case. He requested a few more medications, then closed the curtain around them again.

It was good timing: as soon as Bones got the supplies out of the bucket and placed it in Jim’s hands, it immediately proved a need for use. With another restrained groan, Spock leaned over the side of his bed. 

Spock groaned, his arms clutching his stomach, and tipped his body towards Jim, who had the bucket under his chin before he’d even gotten the chance to throw up. When he did, he sweated more and coughed.

“Shh, you’re okay. You’re okay,” Jim said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. 

The doctor grabbed one of the wet towels and mopped his patient’s face tenderly.

Spock groaned, coughed, then vomited once more until the nausea subsided. By the end of it, Jim was holding his head up with his right arm and holding the bucket with his other. McCoy was still tending to his mouth with the towel.

Finally, Spock turned, slowly, onto his back. Jim put the bucket down. 

Normally, Bones protested against a patient’s partner doting the way Jim was, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask them to separate. He noticed the way Jim placed the bucket down, the object trembling from his own quivering hands, and it broke his heart almost as much as Spock’s own suffering. He saw Jim hold Spock’s hand, saw him sweep his bangs out of the way to kiss his fevered brow, and knew he couldn’t interrupt this for anything.

“He’s going to need to stay hydrated,” said McCoy, turning on the analytical side of his brain to figure out how to treat his friend. “Nurse Chapel is coming back with an IV for that, but he’ll also need to drink some water. Vulcans’ bodies are made for hot and dry climates, so they use less water than a human. It’s part of why they insist on emotional control— too much emotional toil can put tremendous stress on a vulcan’s physique. The sweating, crying, vomiting—all of that will make him vulnerable to dehydration. We’ll start with that and then perhaps a sedative will help him sleep through some of this...but we should hear from Spock before we do anything.”

The two of them looked towards the Vulcan, who was flushed a sickly shade from the stress of his fever.

“Doctor,” said Jim. “Is it possible for me to be alone with Spock for a moment? I can give you a list of symptoms when you’re back.”

McCoy’s eyes fell upon the shivering Vulcan in the bio bed. As soon as his eyes fixed on his face, Spock closed his eyes and turned his face away from him.

Bones nodded and disappeared through the curtain. 

Jim took one of Spock’s hands in both of his and kissed his long fingertips. He felt the Vulcan bond between them tighten like a coil around his body. He felt a rush of nausea, while his head pounded with a fever and then, surprisingly, the urge to burst into tears came to the forefront of his mind. His body ached all over. He felt despair and fear in the packaging of the unknown.

He let go of Spock’s hand and braced for the emotional blowback of the feelings that he’d touched on. When it came, he breathed and made his mental list of the sensations he’d experienced.

“Bones!” He called, his voice coming out as more of a bark than he intended due to the growing feeling of heaviness in his chest.

“Right here,” said the doctor, entering their space again. 

“He’s got a pounding headache,” Jim said, panting a bit. “Body aches all over. There’s also emotional components. He’s....experiencing trauma. He’s feeling the collective emotional pain all of the Betazoids are. Or at least, some of it.” 

“That’s not good,” said McCoy, his expression immediately becoming grave and drawn with desperation.

“I’m sure his mental shields are shattered right now with all his brain is doing to try and process this,” speculated Kirk. “There’s also no way we can quicken our team down on Betazed,” noted Kirk. “If anything goes wrong we’ll need to be within tracking radius.”

“Jim,” said the doctor, the same note of heaviness in his voice as before. “I’m going to have to cancel my other patients and put other doctors on overtime. He needs to be monitored carefully.” 

“Give me the water,” said Kirk. “I’ll make sure he drinks. Is there anything else I can do?”

The doctor could feel the desperation behind his Captain’s eyes, and it made his heart break for the both of them. He remembered all too well the many days at his father’s deathbed, tending to him. He remembered the desperation, the anxiety from the utter lack of control over the situation. He saw it all in his friend’s eyes, and there was little he could do.

But what he could do might ease the first officer’s pain a small fraction.

“I’m going to give him the heaviest sedative I have,” said Bones. “If he’s asleep at least then he won’t be sweating or crying. I don’t know if our pain medications even do anything for telepathic pain, but if we run out of options...”

The doctor cut himself off and injected the hypo into Spock’s arm. 

Almost as quickly, Spock cried out once more, this time speaking a language neither of them understood. He spoke several sentences in what they assumed to be the language spoken by the people in the planet below them, and followed with a shuddering sob.

“I’ll fetch some ice chips,” said Bones, his voice lacking even more hope than before. He pushed the glass of the water Nurse Chapel had brought towards Jim, then left. 

When he was gone, Jim scooted his chair right to the lip of Spock’s bio bed and stroked Spock’s hair with one hand, his other pressed to his clammy brow.

He tapped at the doorway of their t’hy’la bond again, and consciously forgot his worry for Spock. It took a few minutes of meditation, but once Spock could feel Kirk’s mind soften, he let him in again. Kirk tried to remember the technique Spock had started to show him: how to block your own emotions from your partner and foster loving feelings towards them instead, so that they could be calm. 

He tried his best. He didn’t know if he was doing anything at all, but he summoned as much courage and strength and love as he could until he could sense, for a brief flicker of a moment, what Spock was feeling.

Shame.

“Spock,” Kirk whispered. “Please. You don’t have to feel embarrassed around McCoy.”

Spock let out a keening sound that took a good ten or twenty seconds to wind down. His hands came up to clutch his skull again. 

Kirk kept his hand on Spock, trying the same thing he’d done before. This time, when Spock’s mind joined with his, he got a scrambled rush of thoughts and emotions. He worked to clear them out, to offer only love and support, but Spock mentally told him: “stop.” A few more thoughts followed, and Kirk found himself responding out loud.

“McCoy would never use this to make fun of you! Come on, you know him. I always...I guess I thought you guys felt more comfortable with each other than that.”

Spock squeezed his eyes shut.

At that time, they heard someone clear their throat. Jim looked up. 

McCoy emerged with a container of ice chips and fresh cold towels. There was a self-conscious twist of his lip. “Right,” the Doctor said, governing his facial expressions carefully. 

The doctor’s baby blue eyes flickered upward to meet with Jim’s, just for a moment. Their brief moment of eye contact confirmed exactly what the captain was thinking.

“Let me give you gentlemen a moment,” said Jim, nodding to the doctor as he disappeared behind the curtain,

Tense silence filled the space between the two of them, broken only by another wave of pain that split through Spock’s awareness. He clutched his head once more and curled up, his back and face hidden from the Doctor’s sight.

McCoy put the ice chips on the ground. 

“I’m worried about why you’re not asleep yet. Are you feeling any affects of the sedative?”

It was a long time until Spock could answer. A new wave of pain hit him and he pulled the corner of his blanket over his face. Another round of weeping tore through him.

“Mother’s gone...father’s gone,” he whispered. 

“It’s okay,” said the doctor, speaking as if he were approaching a wounded animal man and didn’t want to scare him. He took a dry towel from the bunch and dried his face, being careful not to touch the man’s face with his hands. He knew he was sensitive to that.

“I am still in pain, doctor,” He said, finally. “I fear I won’t sleep until the pain is gone.” 

“I was thinking of giving you something for that.”

McCoy pulled out a hypo that was typically potent in treating Spock’s telepathic headaches. He injected it and watched, waiting for the change in his eyes that would indicate the drugs were kicking in.

He put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out a small, hot pink straw. He put the straw in the glass of water on the bedside stand. He picked up the glass and held it out to his friend.

“Drink,” he said, his voice low and notably soft. 

Spock stared at the glass for a long time, to the point where McCoy almost thought of repeating his order to drink. Finally, eyes turned away, the Vulcan look a long drink of water. He didn’t need to, but he extended one hand to steady the glass. The doctor couldn’t help but wonder if he was hiding his facial expressions again.

“Better, right? I’ve got the IV prepped, too. Who’d think such a centuries old invention would stay so relevant?”

Spock rolled onto his back and didn’t look at McCoy.

“He’s um...he’s right, you know,” said the doctor, gruffly. “Jim, I mean. About being able to trust me. I know we both take the piss out of each other...”

Spock’s eyes flew towards McCoy, his brow crumpling in confusion.

“It just means ‘bicker’ or...fight,” he explained. “I always assumed it was...mutual, I suppose. Not that that excuses it.” 

Spock’s dark, hypnotic eyes met with McCoy’s. They were unreadable.

“Anyway,” McCoy continued, clearing his throat. “If I’ve learned anything at all from my divorce, it’s that people don’t typically start feeling a certain type of way around you unless you’ve encouraged it. It’s pretty rare that someone develops a grudge towards you for no reason.”

“Doctor,” mumbled the Vulcan. “I do not bear any grudge towards you.”

There was a long stretch of silence as that hit home for the Doctor. “Why not? You’ve had a tough enough time as is, being part human where you grew up. Then I went and...basically acted the same as your childhood bullies.”

“There is some truth to what you’re saying,” said Spock. “But your conclusion is incorrect. The good you’ve done for me far outweighs any of your comments.” He was struggling to even speak. “I have always been candid about the terms you use about me that I don’t like, and you respect my wishes.” 

McCoy found himself checking Spock’s vitals on the panel above. His signs were the same, but he could see the tension vibrating in his muscles.

“Don’t speak anymore,” said McCoy. “You’re tense as it is. My point is...I shouldn’t have made you feel like you can’t be vulnerable in front of me. I’m your doctor, and I double as the psychiatrist here, so I ought to be one of the few people you feel okay opening up to.”

“The emotions I described—,” said Spock, ignoring his doctor’s orders, as he often did. “The ones you overheard about...they aren’t based on logic.”

McCoy wiped his brow. “Emotions never are, though. Not for humans. And like it or not, you’re human, too. You can have a gut feeling about someone. Maybe...you not feeling comfortable opening up to me was your version of a gut feeling.”

Spock said nothing for a long time. Finally, he said, “Doctor...you understand the depth and meaning of my T’hy’la bond with Jim, correct?” 

“I believe so,” he answered. He could feel the hesitation in his own voice. “Jim’s told me a lot about it.”

Spock’s expression softened. McCoy was glad it appeared the pain medication was starting to work. “I struggle showing emotion even to him. I’ve never so much as told him I love him out loud...” his eyes drifted sideways. “I’ve only told him telepathically. A handful of times. Even then, half the time I spoke in Vulcan, and I’m sure he couldn’t understand me. Nevertheless, the amount of times I’ve told him is considered....excessive for a Vulcan. Among our own we typically only need to tell each other that kind of thing once.”

McCoy chuckled. “Funny...that’s why my wife and I split up, only on the flip side. I’d say I love her and she’d say I was lying. She used to say ‘you can say I love you all day, but I haven’t felt loved by you in years.’ I still can’t figure out what that meant....or what I was supposed to do.”

The two of them fell into silence again. The doctor broke the silence when he asked if Spock’s pain had decreased.

“Yes,” he said, “though I still believe I will not be able to sleep.”

“I have an idea,” McCoy said. He pressed a button on the bio bed and the surface area of the bed began to expand. After a moment, there was enough room on Spock’s left side for another person to join him.

“I apologize, Doctor. I’m unable to figure out why you’ve expanded the side of my bed.”

“This is the only bio bed in sick bay that does this. I’ll call Jim. But listen here: no funny business in this bed, alright? I’m putting more trust in you two than I ought to.”

The corners of Spock’s mouth and eyes softened to create an almost-smile that Bones was all too familiar with. 

“Is this your attempt to make me feel ‘loved without saying so’ as you said?” 

“No, I’m also gonna say so.” He paused, then placed his own hand, briefly and hesitantly, on the back of Spock’s hand. “I know we haven’t even touched the surface here, but...for what it’s worth, I do love you. You’re a good friend, and I don’t tell you that enough.”

Spock looked into McCoy’s gaze once more, his eyelids growing heavy. 

McCoy smiled. “You don’t have to say it back. I know how it is. I’m just gonna put your IV in and get Jim.” 

The doctor put the IV in without a sound.

He lifted the curtain and nodded to Jim. In moments, the captain was at his first officer’s side once more.

McCoy and Spock locked eyes once more as he walked out, and they gave each other a wordless nod of acknowledgement.

“How are you?” Jim asked, his hand immediately lacing with the same hand McCoy had touched earlier. He pressed a desperate kiss on Spock’s hand, bent over him.

“I will be able to sleep now. The doctor has prescribed the perfect method for ensuring I sleep tonight.”

Jim snapped to attention immediately. His eyes widened when he saw the extra space in the bio bed.

“So....you’re absolutely sure Bones didn’t inject himself with the painkiller hypo?”

The corners of Spock’s mouth pulled upward a fraction. “Of that I can never be sure.” 

Jim chuckled and stripped away his captain’s shirt. His black undershirt remained underneath. He slipped into bed next to Spock. He curled into his usual position when they slept together: on his side, legs thrown over his, trapping Spock in place in a way that made him feel most peculiar. 

As Spock gave into the warmth of Jim’s skin, he could almost understand the hours humans and so many other species poured into their art. How else could one purge themselves of the overwhelming feelings that come with loving another in any form if not through pen or paintbrush or any other form of expression? 

Love was a big thing to carry with you. It was difficult to express and difficult to admit to. Maybe, then, love was measured in the small things one did for another every day. Maybe it meant a partner’s arms to hold you when you’re in pain, or a friend’s hand reaching out when you need it. Perhaps it could be in pink straws and altering medical beds in illogical ways. In a concerned look from a colleague, or a hand steadying you. 

“Jim,” said Spock through a haze, fighting to stay awake. 

Jim’s eyes snapped to attention immediately, his honey-brown eyes meeting Spock’s darker ones. 

“You are, by far...the greatest love of my life.”

Kirk’s eyes immediately filled with tears. He laughed, and the tears spilled over the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, these are good tears,” said Kirk. “That’s just... that’s the first time you’ve said that out loud.”

“I apologize for the delay.”

“You—? No! I love you, too. I love you so much...my god, Spock.”

Kirk rushed forward and didn’t even aim when he turned his t’hy’la’s face towards his to cover in kisses. He was lucky when their lips met with perfect harmony.

For a few moments, while kissing the man he loved so dearly, Spock wondered if maybe there was something to be said about the “human touch” McCoy always talked about in regards to his medical bedside manner. 

Kirk broke their kiss to look deeply into Spock’s eyes. “I love you too, by the way. Obviously.”

Spock kissed him until Jim was a babbling mess again, then just as quickly pulled his head forward to lay on his chest.

Spock began to drift off from the medication, holding Jim with the only one of his arms that did not have a needle in it. 

Yes, he decided...there was definitely something to be said for the Doctor’s theory.


End file.
